At first I wasn't so sure about the new hair on my face, but now it's growing on me.

I have recently become aware that sports are an important part of our society. This is not something I personally believe, but am made aware through my recent immersion in the world of normal people.

My family is not the most athletic family. Sports are played as a requirement, not for fun. Interest in sports is feigned only to fit in with the popular crowd (See Dad during the playoffs).

See, even when writing that last sentence, I had to stop and think what sport has "the playoffs." Eventually, I gave up, as it sounds sport-like enough.

Anyway, my sports career promptly ended at the close of second grade, when I left the AYSO soccer team of which I was a one-year member. I remember that year with fond feelings, mainly because the team had all of my close friends, and actually nothing to do with the sport.

Now at college, I am forced to be introduced to exciting new means of athleticism, such as "Basketball," "Football," and "Baseball." I have attended games of all three of these sports, and I can tell you, they get boring. Especially baseball.

But the point of this post, if there is one. Richard Walker has, on several occasions, forced me to eat dinner at places that conveniently have the Kings game on. In fact, the last time he paid for my meal, but that was almost an accident.

Thanks to his persistence, I have learned most of the rules to the game and can bear to sit through the entire thing. I can add insightful comments to sports conversations, but for fear of being an idiot, don't. And most importantly, I've learned that any comparison between the Kings and the Lakers will get a slap in the face.

I was at Shields Library the other day, finding some more books for my term paper. I was afraid I might exceed the borrowing limit soon, since I already had a few books back at my dorm.

As the check out girl was scanning my books, I politely asked her, “Is there a limit to how many books you can check out?”

Her reply: “Yep. Three…”

Shoot. I have three at home.

“…hundred.”

Wow.

You can check out three hundred books at a time from Shields Library. That means I could start my own Jeff Lee Library, based in my dorm room, rotating the selection every two weeks. I’m sure it would get to the point where they would just start giving me books since they’d be sick of ringing up the 300 books, so I might look into that. Make a little profit on the side, autographing library cards and whatnot.

Better yet, I could find some popular class where the requirement is to write a similar essay, then check out every book on that topic and rent them out to people. I am so devious.

Anyway, I’m feeling kind of pathetic with 1/60 my total limit of books. Maybe I’ll go there today and check out books nonsensically, hopefully making my bibliography longer than the actual essay.

I hate the rain. As I’m sitting here alone in my room, curtains pulled, heater on, pantless. My pants are currently residing on the heater because they are soaked. In turn, this is why my curtains are not drawn. I am pretty miserable.

It all started yesterday when the sky decided to urinate on me. At first it was pleasant, since we haven’t had any rain in a while. More importantly, it was only slightly drizzling. It was only enough to create a heavy dew on the grass. It was just beyond the point where you say to your friends, “Hey, I think I felt a raindrop,” and they all look up in the air, then at their arms, concentrating hard to convince themselves that the raindrops they too are feeling are not imaginary.

Then the puddles started forming. The puddles grew to beyond the point where a jacket would span them. The rain fell harder, making me exclaim, “I’m wet” to myself then have people look at me funny.

That was all good and fine until I actually had to bike to class in the rain. Forgetting it was raining and being late to class, I forgot to put on my raincoat. So I showed up with nice damp spots strategically placed on the front parts of my body.

Then I had to bike in the pouring rain. The strategy is simple: lower your chin to your chest, squint your eyes, and bike fast. The fast part really doesn’t help out when it comes to getting wet, but it makes the misery go by quicker. And I’m not sure the whole lowering your chin thing does anything, but it’s a natural reaction, so I do it anyway.

The worst part about biking in the rain is when your pants get temporarily glued to your thighs. It’s like swimming in your clothes, but less purposefully. I absolutely hate that feeling.

This feeling of hate emanates throughout my body, creating an even more bitter than usual me. Angry at the rain, I started smacking my beloved gloves against the wall in hopes to smack out some water. But alas, the clip that holds them together decided to rip off in anger. I guess I’m not the only one that hates the rain.

I guess I’m pretty dry now, but that’s probably because I’ve been sitting nearly naked in a hot room for quite some time now. I might want to go check on my pants. Knowing my day, it’s likely the heater burnt them or something.

The purpose of this blog is so that I will have a place to rant about things that bother me or that I find interesting. “My Life” is more of a daily log, aimed at my parents. This can be something funnier and probably more random, most likely along the lines of my Christmas letter.

In my other blog, I might say something like, “I got ready for class,” whereas this one would have an entire post about how the bathroom was being cleaned, so I just did everything in the girl’s (true story). It’s supposed to be less boring and more sarcastic. I sure hope you don’t find sarcasm boring.

I’m excited about the new template too. I spent quite some time finding a good one, and I think the Google look is great. It’s simple, easily identifiable, and supportive of Blogger’s parent company. And Google is awesome.

Hopefully sometime in the near future there will be some event that spurs bitterness in my heart. There really is no need to hope, since pretty much everything spurs bitterness in my heart. It’s just a matter of how much I need to procrastinate that will be the deciding factor in posting.

One final note:
Please feel free to comment here. Not just acknowledging that I've posted something, but really, a comment. It would let me know that people actually read this, not just skim it over. And yes, you are cool enough to comment.

Welcome to another exciting round of blogging. Considering the infinitesimally small amount of free time I have, it was a rather daring play by me to create yet another weblog. But looking at my previous boring blog and a prior failed attempt, I decided to create a blog that would be considered enjoyable to read by people other than my parents. This means I actually will spend time writing and editing these articles, as opposed to simply typing in an incoherent stream of consciousness. I hope that this turns out funnier than the other blogs, but in all likelihood I'll simply forget about this one and it will be sparsely edited and rather boring. I mean, rather dashing.